


Identities

by Dotdotbeepdot



Series: Hobo Dark and Afro Wilford [4]
Category: Video Blogging RPF, markiplier - Fandom
Genre: Arguing, Gen, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Panic Attack, Sensory Overload, Shopping, The whole package baby, identity crisis, maybe?? - Freeform, some angst and some fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-24
Updated: 2019-09-24
Packaged: 2020-10-27 14:37:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20761991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dotdotbeepdot/pseuds/Dotdotbeepdot
Summary: Dark brings up the idea of leaving to Wilford. They get in a short lived fight about it and the topic of new clothes for Dark comes up while Wilford is packing.





	Identities

**Author's Note:**

> Ignore how it’s been months of writers block and enjoy this story. 
> 
> Shout out to Cute Anon for getting me out of this block

Wilford was hard to move. Apparently, he’s gotten very attached to the little village. When Dark told him that they needed to leave, he protested. 

“I don’t want to leave!” He cried. “This town likes me. I’ve been here for years I can’t just leave them all!” 

“You can’t hide out here forever, Wil,” Dark said, terse and tired. He felt guilty trying to take Wilford away― he would love nothing more than to stay in this town for the rest of his existence too― but he didn’t want to risk Celine taking control again and waking up decades later. “We need to go somewhere new to…” Dark trailed off, he didn’t want to tell Wilford about Mark just yet. He doesn’t know how he would respond. “To be somewhere new. Away from the party life for once.”

Wilford dramatically rolled his eyes. “There’s no fun in that, Darky!” he whined, stomping about the room. “This town likes to party with me. The girls here are easy lays and no one really cares if I slip up and shoot someone a little―”

“We are leaving together or I am leaving alone!” Dark interrupted with a shout.

Silence.

Dark felt bad for threatening him. He didn’t want to, but he also didn’t want Celine to take control again. Who knows how long it will be to see Wilford again if she took control. It’s clear now that Celine can see what Dark is doing when Damien is in control, he has a feeling she knows more than she’s letting on, but Damien didn’t know how to do that. Maybe now that he’s actually gotten control for once, he’ll be able to watch. 

He couldn’t risk it though.

He couldn’t risk losing Wilford again.

Wilford apparently didn’t want him to leave either. He pouted, dragging his feet and grumbling under his breath as he moved to the closet and shuffled through it. Dark could see many different outfits, varying from the pink and yellow that he was wearing now, to some completely different things― he had a surprising amount of dresses and… other feminine clothes. Dark watched him stuff some of the outfits in a duffle bag, staring at them and judging them before tossing them away or shoving them in the bag. He grabbed something from the back and didn’t even look at it before shoving it in his bag. The darkness around Dark writhed as he stared at the clothing.

It was his colonel coat. He still had it after all this time. Dark looked down at his clothes, all the jackets and the heavy material. He didn’t have his mayor’s tux, or even the DA’s suit. 

“Why do you still have that?” Dark’s mouth moved on it’s own, still staring down at his bulky outfit.

“Have what?” Wilford asked. Dark looked back up to see him staring in confusion, the coat still hanging out of the bag.

“Your coat,” Dark nodded towards it. Wilford looked at it like he didn’t even know it was there. “I thought you wanted to forget what happened there…”

“I take my coat with me as a reminder,” Wilford shook his head, stuffing the rest of the coat in and went to grab the alcohol and drugs on the floor, shoving them in the bag as well. “I feel like there’s a reason behind that. Maybe to remind myself of who I was before that night― to remind myself I wasn’t always a looney who killed for one twisted reason or another― or maybe I like it! Who knows…” He trailed off. Smiling up at Dark, zipping up the bag and hopping to his feet. He seemed to have forgotten that he was leaving this town already.

Dark found it appalling that Wilford thought he was twisted. He was broken beyond repair, it wasn’t his fault. It was Mark’s fault for making Wilford like this, it was Mark’s fault for making  _ Dark  _ like this, making them both question their own humanity. All the more reason to hunt him down and kill him forever. 

“You should get some more clothes, Darky,” Wilford interrupted Dark’s angered thoughts. He blinked a few times and stared at his friend. “I mean, it’s not winter anymore and you should probably change because you smell awful.” 

Dark glared at him, but brought up his arm and took a whiff. He reeled back and gagged. How the hell has he not noticed that he smelled like a rotting carcass? He grunted, suddenly feeling uncomfortable with himself.

“Do you have anything that can cover this smell?” he asked through gritted teeth. This was absolutely humiliating. Wilford stifled his laugh as he went to the bathroom, grabbing something from the sink and tossing it to Dark. He caught it without issue and looked it over, wrinkling his nose at the product. “What the hell is this? Perfume?”

“Body spray,” Wilford laughed fully then, making Dark scowl more. “I would suggest a shower, but you should probably get new clothes first. You could wear my clothes, but I think it’ll be a little too big on you.” he cooed the last part out, walking by to sit on the bed with his bag and ruffled Dark’s messy hair as he did so. The darkness lashed at him.

Dark looked over the can a few more times. He saw the top had to be taken off, so he twisted and pulled on it until it popped off. He glared at the nozzle, pointing it at his shirt and giving it an experimental spray. He heard Wilford giggling in the background and glared at him to be quiet. 

“Stop laughing,” his giggling only got louder, covering his mouth and kicking his feet as if this was the funniest thing in the world. “Just tell me how to do this, Boozehound.” 

Wilford laughed harder at the no doubt out dated insult, but he staggered off the bed and grabbed the spray from Dark’s hands. He was still giggling as he lifted one of Dark’s arms and sprayed it, doing the same to the other. Then, he sprayed the air in front of Dark and pushed him into it. He coughed and waved in front of his face at the strong smell. It was better than the smell of death, but it still wasn’t good.

“Alright, now that we got that handled,” Wilford tossed the can somewhere and copied Dark in waving away the extra in the air. “We need to get you more clothes. And maybe a haircut.”

Dark finished coughing and he frowned. He wasn’t so sure he wanted to cut his hair. All this attention on him made him all too self aware of the way he looked. Celine would have never let her hair get this long and Damian would never let his beard get this ragged, but Dark was relenting to let it go. He wasn’t Damien or Celine— he wasn’t  _ anyone—  _ yet he felt uncomfortable giving up something that was his alone.

“Let’s just get clothes for now…” Dark mumbled.

Wilford didn’t seem to see that Dark’s mood had sobered. He snatched Dark’s arm and led him out of the motel room. Dark huffed at the usual greetings from the townsfolk, he’s been here for almost a month now and Dark still wondered how the hell Wilford can stand the constant bootlicking of everyone. From what Wilford had told him, He has been living here for 50 some years and just became a figure in the town. Wilford pulled him into a shop, cheerfully greeting the woman at the counter. He dropped Dark’s arm and placed his hands on his hips, grinning widely behind his mustache.

“Well, Darky,” Wilford broadcasted throughout the store, no one even blinked. “Let’s find you some clothes!”

With that, Wilford disappeared into the store, leaving Dark at the entrance. He looked around at the wide variety of flashy clothes, nothing like what was around in the 20’s. He walked through the aisles, cringing at some of the outfits. None of them piqued his interest, whatever those were. He thought of the people he was before. Celine was always into a darker sense of fashion, even as a child, even when her mother scolded her for not being lady-like. Damien was always a swell boy, dressing like any other mayor in any other town. Such opposites… 

Dark shouldn’t be doing this. He should only be after Mark, he was created to go after Mark and that’s it. He shouldn’t be thinking about the lifes’ that aren’t his and clothes he didn’t need. 

He nearly bumped into someone in his mindless wandering through the aisles, and was thrown out of his thoughts. He didn’t even hear them apologize, pushing past them and finding a wall to press against. He pressed the heel of his palm against the sides of his head and screwed his eyes shut. Every little sound, from the soft footsteps of other people to the bell ringing on top of the door, was another stab at his brain. He felt more than heard the darkness surrounding him writhing and crying out as he pressed his hands harder against his head to quiet it. This hasn’t happened since he and Wilford reunited. Why did this even happen? He was completely fine before this?

He felt someone grab his shoulder, and the darkness moved from suffocating Dark to lashing around the hand. Dark opened his eyes to see Wilford’s eyes peering at his face. He looked drained and in pain, but still concerned about Dark. The darkness was making Wilford grey and it seemed to be hurting him. Dark quickly pulled it back and watched as his friend slouched, gasping a little, before shaking it off and looking back at Dark. 

“Are you okay?” Wilford asked at the same time as Dark, both choking out the question. 

“I’m fine,” Wil answered first. He smiled, an attempt at comforting him. “A little spooked because I didn’t know your aura could hurt me, but I’m fine.”

“I’m…” Dark trailed off. He lowered his hands, even when they twitched to grab his head again as the bell rang out as someone entered the store. 

“You’re not fine,” Wilford decided for him. He nodded and let go of Dark’s shoulder. “Alright then! Let’s head home then, my friend!” 

He acted cheerful once more, adjusting his grip on the clothes in his arms. The cashier didn’t do anything as both of them left the store without paying. 

Dark didn’t remember the walk back to the motel— Wilford probably teleported them— but he made a beeline to the bed and dropped down into it. He stared down at his lap and grabbed his hair, pulling it and dragging it over his face. Why did that happen? How pathetic is he that he can’t handle a bit of flashy clothes? How is he going to take down Mark if he can’t even enter a store?

“Your aura is freaking out again.” Wilford interjected Dark’s brooding. Dark glanced over to see Wilford sitting next to him on the bed. 

“Why do you call it that?” He questioned, his voice sounding harsher than he intended. 

“What? Aura?” Wilford raised both his eyebrows and rubbed his chin in thought. “Well, it shows off your mood. The blue and red fellas always twitch whenever you’re thinking or stressed. And they jump when your surprised and lash out when your scared or angry. I only barely see them when we’re relaxing.”

Dark hummed. He never thought of it like that. He never really thought much about his… aura. He just knew it was there and sometimes it had a mind of its own. He especially didn’t know about the red and blue figures. 

“What did you buy?” Dark changed the subject to the clothes in Wilford’s lap. The other let out a noise of surprise, as if he had forgotten about them, and lifted one up. 

“It’s just some clothes I thought you would like!” He was holding up a button up, similar to his own, but black and not as shiny. He put it back in the pile before handing the entire thing to Dark. “They go with your whole aesthetic. You know, dark and brooding, and I got a lot of things for you to layer too!”

Dark stared at the pile, rifling through it to see what else was in it. It was all mostly black, but there was some grey and white as well. It was mostly coats and dress shirts. There was a regular shirt or two and dress pants. In fact, there was a lot more clothes than Dark had originally thought. He wondered how Wilford could hold all of this and get away with not paying. 

“Well,” Wilford shoved his shoulder with his own playfully. “Go get dressed! I want to see how you look in all those!”

Dark groaned lowly in his chest, but grabbed an outfit and went into the bathroom to change.


End file.
